By the way, the delivery of goods to the home was practiced already in the seventies of the last century; and not only in the big cities of our vast country, but also in the most remote corners of Russia.

In one colloquium, right next to the office, lived a grandmother who traded the same. Business with her went well, especially at night - rural mechanics after a working day were often going to drink with a small companion in a repair workshop. As is the case, they also often missed and they sat on the tractor and combo and went to an entrepreneurial grandmother for a supplement. And everything would be good if there was no sudden competition in the person of another pensioner, who also decided to do this lucrative business and opened his "point" of night trade. It was very close to the workshop, because it was very close. All the clients went to her now, and the first grandmother began to bear huge losses. The existence of the company itself was threatened. I had to do something.
I found an old way out!
As mentioned, she lived next to the office. And there were only three phones for the whole collage: in the office, at the workshop and at the dairy farm.
In the office - unlike the farm and the workshop, where the work boiled for a day - there was no one at night. The phone was. And the ringing of this phone was loud - in a quiet summer night, it was heard a couple hundred meters away, even with the windows closed. Next - simple: from the workshop calls to the office - the grandmother believes calls - the number of calls strictly corresponds to the number of bottles ordered. and all. Then the order is placed in the backpack and on the motorcycle will be taken to the customer. Delivery is free.
From the farm they could not call by definition, because they knew that at night there was no one in the office; in addition, calls, appearances and passwords were kept in strict secret from the female part of the village population. The likelihood of someone mistaking the number was insignificant and the scheme worked smoothly for several weeks. Until someone finally got the number wrong.
It was about twelve o’clock at night and my grandmother was already asleep when the phone ringed in the office.
She automatically began to count, and, without opening her eyes, sat down.
in the bed.
– Two... three... four... – she, not looking, slid her legs into circumcised pools.
I put on the rubber boots that stood right away.
The phone continued. The calls were somewhat unusually long, but she did not pay attention to it, afraid of falling out of account.
At eleven she finally woke up and sat, opened her mouth wide and opened her eyes, afraid to believe her fortune - like a wholesale order at retail prices!
At the “seventh” account, the phone finally silenced.
The grandmother remembered, shut her mouth and, finely and quickly crossed three times, rushed into the basement for the goods.

In the workshop, two mechanics of the night shift foolishly stumbled on some kneeling, when the motorcycle was shaken shortly on the street and immediately silenced.
After a couple of seconds in the gate, pushing their back and pressing a heavy backpack to the chest, the famous self-suicide grandmother collapsed.
Then followed a ruthless and unnatural scene - an elderly woman imposed her goods on two young, healthy men.
The alcohol!But they refused.
The joke!The grandmother ored.
We are neither dreams nor spirits. I tried to break the mechanics, and where?
We have so much!
It is unknown how long it would have lasted, but there was a thunderstorm of three or four more engines from the street, judging by the sound of motorcycles.
“The Urals.”
It turns out, an incredible number of calls heard not only the car driver, but also the mechanics who lived near the office.
The news of the incredible scale of sabotage in the workshop immediately spread among the male population of the village, and everyone who could rushed to come to personally take part in it.
In short, the grandmother was not left in the box - that night in the office the phone ringed twice...